If I Could Choose
by Vladica
Summary: Murder and mercy, love and death. All become inextricably entwined when Nigel meets a young woman with a connection to a murder victim. A work in progress. Rated T for future content and dealings with death.
1. Chapter 1

A new night, a new corpse. Dr. Nigel Townsend hummed cheerily to himself as he prepared to work. Suddenly he froze, then relaxed and resumed his work. He knew without turning that someone stood in the doorway.

"Hello Jordan, come to burn the midnight oil with me, girl?"

"The name's Maggie."

Nigel turned quickly, instruments still in hand. A young woman stood in the doorway, her face partly concealed by a black fedora that topped her long blond curls. Nigel's brow furrowed. "How did you get in here? They don't allow visitors here, miss."

The woman did not budge. Though Nigel couldn't see her eyes, he could tell they were fixed on the cadaver on the table. Quickly he turned and covered the man with the sheet. A sound like a sob made him turn to the woman again. Great, just what he needed . . . a psychotic relative breaking in for one last glimpse. It was pathetic, he had to admit- the girl was lovely and he hated to see a pretty girl in pain. Still, there were rules.

"I'll have to escort you out, miss. Security wouldn't be too happy to see you here." Gently he reached to take her arm, but she surprised him by taking his hand midway. For the first time she looked up at him and he saw her eyes. They were green and brilliant, bright with unshed tears. "Please," she whispered, "Please let me see him." Something in her voice transfixed him- not just grieving for a lost loved one, but a desperate need for some- something. He couldn't place it, and neither could he ignore it. _Jordan would kill me for this. So would Garret and everyone else in the damned place._ Even as the thoughts ran through his mind, he placed an arm around the girl and led her to the table.

"It's not going to be pretty, you have to know that. The fellow was dying of cancer, but someone beat the cancer to it. The wound is clean, but-"

"Please," she interrupted, "I don't mean to be rude, but I already know what happened. Please just let me see him."

"Of course," Nigel muttered, "How stupid."

Without another word he pulled the sheet back down to reveal the man's face. Whatever reaction he expected from the young woman did not come. She was silent and motionless as a statue. At last she nodded and turned away. Nigel replaced the sheet.

He was at a loss for what to do next. He should call security and have the woman removed; this was breaking at least half a dozen laws. But he remained where he was, his eyes on her. Her shoulders were slender, her form exquisite. But it was her eyes that he could not forget, even when she faced away from him as she did now. Something in them called to him, _saw_ him. He found himself wanting to lie her down in a bed of cool white silk, chasing the storms from her eyes beneath a dark moon. _This is mad, Nigel . . . she's grieving and you're perving and you're both going to get in hot water if she stays here any longer._

"Why don't we go out and have some coffee miss . . . I can't promise to answer any questions, as the case is still open, but perhaps I can tell you more than the police."

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Coffee would be good. Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

"The blade was very sharp, obviously. Whoever was at the other end of it must have been very strong and moderately knowledgeable in the anatomy of the heart, for the path of the knife travels through the ribcage into the pericardial cavity. The septum is pierced through and mitral and tricuspid valves severed. Death, I'm sure, was expeditious."

Nigel took a break to swallow a mouthful of burning coffee. Maggie had barely touched hers, though she clung to the cup so hard her knuckles were white. For long moments the ticking of the clock on the wall and the muted sounds from the café kitchen were the only sounds. Maggie stared at her coffee; Nigel took the opportunity to watch her face. She was no soul mate, but she was something else he couldn't name. It was nearing one in the morning, he should go. Still he sat, his long legs cramped beneath the small table.

"We were having an affair."

Maggie's suddenly spoken words surprised him, but he did not show it. He merely nodded and waited for her to go on.

"I knew it was wrong. I had a good fiancée who loved me. But when I met Adam the world just seemed to stop. He knew me- he _saw_ me. He knew more of who I was in five minutes than most of the people who have known me my whole life. Do you know what that feels like, Dr. Townsend?"

"I know exactly," he replied softly, each glimpse of her green eyes tearing at him.

"I tried three different times to leave him. Each time it nearly killed us both, and I'd always go back. My fiancé, Jonathon, knew something was wrong, and I felt so guilty I told him everything. He wanted to break off the engagement of course, but I begged him to stay. As much as I loved Adam, the thought of losing Jonathon was something I could not bear. It wasn't just him- it was a way of life. He represented everything I had ever known or believed in and I found in the end that was something I could not let go of."

She was fighting to keep her voice steady against the tears that constantly rose to the surface. Nigel slid his hand across the table and she gripped it fiercely, her small fingers wrapped around his thumb like a child's.

"Even if it sacrificed the knowledge of your own heart and soul?" Nigel asked quietly.

Maggie nodded, obviously fighting hard for control. Her tale must be told, and she couldn't rest until it was finished.

"When I went to see Adam, he told me he was dying of cancer. At first I thought it was some trick to keep me with him. But everything I knew about him confirmed that it was true. I had been so blind not to see it before. Still I could not stay, and he knew it was really goodbye. I have never seen a grown man cry like he did, it was terrible. I couldn't stand it and fled. The next day this was mailed to my house."

She pulled a folded piece of paper from her coat pocket and handed it to Nigel. Gently taking his hand from hers, he unfolded the sheet to reveal a poem penned in a man's hand. His eyes drifted over the lines and he read them out loud:

_Sudden sharp steel against my flesh-_

_A gasp of pain, then another,_

_And the worst is over._

_Cover my body with yours,_

_Leave your kisses on my lips,_

_Warm me as death leaves me cold._

"God," Maggie whispered, her eyes seeing another time and place, "How could I have done it?"


End file.
